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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25818538">my greatest fear has always been you.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MavenMorozova/pseuds/MavenMorozova'>MavenMorozova</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Renegades - Marissa Meyer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Body Dysphoria, BringBackDicey2020, Crack Treated Seriously, Kissing, Lowkey Crack, M/M, One Shot, Phobiace, Pining, but not, enjoy whatever tf this is, i probably should have not tagged it that, ish?, who knows - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 12:40:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,046</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25818538</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MavenMorozova/pseuds/MavenMorozova</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Phobia has always wanted at least a little bit of attention from the leader of the Anarchists, Ace Anarchy. He doesn't know that he's about to get it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alec Artino | Ace Anarchy/Dicey | Phobia, Alec Artino | Ace Anarchy/Honey Harper (implied/background), Alec Artino | Ace Anarchy/Phobia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>my greatest fear has always been you.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>not crack. crack? not crack. crack? you read it and tell me.</p><p>also I've been shipping this for years and made a few memes on it, but I've never written for it which is a crime, so here i am. you're welcome and enjoy.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When you’re living each day one at a time, the world often moves slowly. Yet still, life passes you by when you have only one purpose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phobia has always felt like he only has one meaning, to incite fear in the hearts of, well, everybody. But lately, he has only been going through the motions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t like to think about his father, the child, the Renegade.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t like to think about the fact that he’ll only ever signify fear and neglect and powerlessness. That’s not how he feels.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t like to think about the way that Ace looks with his sleeves rolled up, revealing lightly tanned skin and muscled forearms. His dark brown eyes that Phobia always seems to get lost in, His sharp profile and the way that he looks at Honey Harper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sweet rot, Phobia </span>
  <em>
    <span>lives </span>
  </em>
  <span>for the way that Ace looks at Honey, as if she is a delicious piece of fruit that needed to be eaten before it can turn from ripened to rotten.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he loves, too, the way that Honey looks at </span>
  <em>
    <span>himself</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But mostly, he just wants Ace to spare him a glance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sad thing is, if they ever do get a chance to be together, Phobia knows that they can’t touch, not really. Ace will only ever see a shapeless dark phantom with a menacing blade, and when he pulls back his hood to reveal his face...there won’t be anything to look at.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phobia often wonders what Ace is afraid of. After all, the great Anarchist has never gotten a peek under Phobia’s hood, though of course, Phobia is desperate to show him his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then, whenever his mind decides to entertain this thought, he has to remind himself that he doesn’t have a face, nor a heart, nor a soul.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ace will never kiss him, touch him, or sleep with him, but much less will he ever </span>
  <em>
    <span>love </span>
  </em>
  <span>him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But Phobia should have guessed better, expected more, from the leader of the Anarchist movement. Ace </span>
  <em>
    <span>always </span>
  </em>
  <span>gets what he wants, and by a slim chance, if he doesn’t, he still fights tooth and nail to the end. But he’s never truly defeated, not by a long shot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phobia knows this, and so when they are both standing in the left shrine of the cathedral one evening—well, Phobia is not really standing, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>hovering</span>
  </em>
  <span>—and Ace is giving him this </span>
  <em>
    <span>look</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Phobia simply </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Something has changed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s still not sure why Ace’s mind has totally flipped, why Ace is stepping forward, his hand stroking the edge of Phobia’s dark cloak gently. An unfamiliar heart flares within him, so vastly dichotomously different from the typical, omnipresent cold. The cold that has started to feel like a weight upon his back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phobia finds himself, for the first time in his life, </span>
  <em>
    <span>afraid</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He’s afraid of what Ace will find under his hood, and in the moment before it happens, he flinches.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ace notices everything, and this is no different. He blinks, brows scrunched together tightly as he examines Phobia carefully, scrutinizing his body movements.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know that I’m not afraid,” Ace murmurs quietly, his voice so different from when he’s giving those proud speeches.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One cannot be brave who has no fear,” is Phobia’s only reply. As usual, his voice does not sound like a voice at all, but instead a harsh whisper of barely perceptible sounds. Ace has been the first to decipher this language. “Are you brave, Alec?” He dares, with a sharp intake of breath, to speak Ace’s true name.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Surprisingly, Ace makes no comment on that, only tilting his head to the side, lips protruding in a slight pout. Phobia notices with that same unfamiliar heat that he looks even more handsome up close.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How he’d like to feel that body against his, over his.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He just wishes that he had a real body to begin with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you think?” is Ace’s only reply after a long moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phobia doesn’t know what to say. And suddenly, he knows what Ace’s fear is, that deepest personal secret hidden meticulously away from prying eyes under that booming persona and sleek facade.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It doesn’t matter what I’m afraid of, or what I will see,” Ace murmurs in the echoing silence. “I thank you for being by my side.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Always. There is nowhere else I’d rather be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And suddenly, Phobia’s hood is thrown back, and he feels something blessedly wonderful there. It’s freeing, this feeling, and in a moment, he realizes why.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He has a face, and he has skin, and a physical form and body. “How?” he whispers to Ace, though he already knows. He waits; he wants to here the words from Ace’s lips themselves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My greatest fear has always been you,” Ace murmurs back, and before Phobia can blink or even </span>
  <em>
    <span>think</span>
  </em>
  <span>, the other Anarchist’s mouth is on his—sweet rot, he has a </span>
  <em>
    <span>mouth!</span>
  </em>
  <span>—and it’s moving gently and softly over his newly formed skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they break apart, Phobia feels his throat tightening. It’s a very new sensation. “Do you even know my name?” he asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ace shakes his head, almost ashamed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dicey,” he finally says in the quiet. It’s not the name that his father would ever have given him (for his father would probably be horrified by him if he ever met him), but it works. It’s a name. It’s his name.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dicey?” Ace repeats, a slight scoff in his voice. Perhaps he doesn’t mean it, but Phobia still hears it. Or—Dicey does. He isn’t sure who he is, he never has been.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t laugh, Alec.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ace immediately shuts up, pressing his lips together in an amused smile. Phobia simply </span>
  <em>
    <span>stares</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He’s never seen Ace this way. “Why are you afraid of me?” he finally asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was afraid that you’d show me something terrifying,” the other Anarchist mutters, his eyes traveling upwards toward the frescoed ceiling. “I was afraid you would hate me for this strange attraction.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How could that even be possible?” Phobia said with a small, shuddering laugh. “I’ve loved you for years, Alec.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ace looked back down again, his eyes sweet and sad. “I’m sorry that I didn’t see it sooner,” he replied softly. “I love you too, Dicey.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>PLEASE tell me what you thought because poor dicey needs validation and i will be forwarding any lovely comments to him personally. he and i are in touch, you know. we often scream about our problematic faves together.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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